Both Lady Harman and Susan Burnet reflected in silence for a few seconds upon the International Stores. The sewing woman was the first to speak. “Things like that,” she said, “didn’t ought to be. One shop didn’t ought to be allowed to set out to ruin another. It isn’t fair trading, it’s a sort of murder. It oughtn’t to be allowed. How was father to know?...” “There’s got to be competition,” said Lady Harman. “I don’t call that competition,” said Susan Burnet. “But,—I suppose they give people cheaper bread.” “They do for a time. Then when they’ve killed you they do what they like.... Luke—he’s one of those who’ll say anything—well, he used to say it was a regular Monopoly. But it’s hard on people who’ve set out to live honest and respectable and bring up a family plain and decent to be pushed out of the way like that.” “I suppose it is,” said Lady Harman. “What was father to _do_?” said Susan, and turned to Sir Isaac’s armchair from which this discourse had distracted her. And then suddenly, in a voice thick with rage, she burst out: “And then Alice must needs go and take their money. That’s what sticks in _my_ throat.” Still on her knees she faced about to Lady Harman. “Alice goes into one of their Ho’burn branches as a waitress, do what I could to prevent her. It makes one mad to think of it. Time after time I’ve said to her, ‘Alice,’ I’ve said, ‘sooner than touch their dirty money I’d starve in the street.’ And she goes! She says it’s all nonsense of me to bear a spite. Laughs at me! ‘Alice,’ I told her, ‘it’s a wonder the spirit of poor father don’t rise up against you.’ And she laughs. Calls that bearing a spite.... Of course she was little when it happened. She can’t remember, not as I remember....” Lady Harman reflected for a time. “I suppose you don’t know,” she began, addressing Susan’s industrious back; “you don’t know who—who owns these International Stores?” “I suppose it’s some company,” said Susan. “I don’t see that it lets them off—being in a company.” §8